


the art of staying

by nightswatch



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Actual Hockey, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9792908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: Kent and Jeff Troy have an arrangement. When they're in the same city, one of them will likely end up in the other's hotel room. It's not that easy anymore when Troy gets traded to the Aces.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this sort of evolved from my first Kent/Swoops fic because I started thinking about how their relationship would work out if they were friends with benefits before Swoops even came to Vegas.
> 
> I think we still don't know what Troy's first name is, so I'm still going with Jeff. 
> 
> There's mentions of Jack's overdose and also some non-explicit sex, hence the M rating. 
> 
> Also, I don't pretend to understand the NHL. Suspend your disbelief if something doesn't make sense.

**Houston, TX | January 2010**

 

 **Houston Aeros** @HoustonAeros

Forward Jeffrey Troy has been recalled from the @AustinArrows.

 

 **Houston Aeros** @HoustonAeros

#Aeros Gameday! The boys are back in town and ready to face the @LVAces #AerosAces

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

The #Aces fall to the Aeros 3-2. Aces goals scored by Parson and Patterson.

 

“Okay, boys,” Patty says and throws his arms around Kent and Sunny, “here’s the deal. I got drafted with Franky, y’know, the captain of the Aeros? A bunch of us are meeting up later on and if you promise that you’ll be good, I might buy you kids a beer.”

Kent only nods. He doesn’t really feel like going anywhere.

Today’s game was a mess. He was so close to tying it up. They could have gone into overtime, they could have won. A minute left in the game, and Kent had the puck, and then, from out of nowhere, Jeffrey Troy swooped in and snatched it away from him, and that was it for the Aces. He probably shouldn’t take it personally, but that’s easier said than done.

“Good goal, Parse,” Patty adds and pats Kent’s head before he walks away.

Sunny sighs. He hasn’t started in goal in about two weeks. He’s the new kid. And so is Kent. Sunny’s even played in the AHL for two years before he got called up to the Aces. Kent is really, _truly_ the new kid. He’s a rookie, he’s scared shitless before every game and it takes every shred of self-control he has left to make sure that it doesn’t show. He keeps a smirk on his face and hopes that no one sees right through him.

It’s working so far.

Anyway, it’s starting to get easier. Vegas is starting to become less scary, too. Slowly. Very slowly.

They go to some bar with a good third of the team to meet pretty much the entirety of the Aeros’ roster. Kent gets a lot of pats on the back from a bunch of the older guys and eventually ends up in a booth with Sunny. Next to them, Patty is talking to Jeffrey Troy, who says, “Call me Jeff,” and then won’t shut up about how excited he is that he gets to play in Houston.

Kent doesn’t like Houston. He doesn’t like the Aeros. He doesn’t like Jeffrey Troy.

He hates tough losses, especially when they came so close. They were supposed to win tonight, but then there was Troy with his two points in his first NHL game and Kent should probably be happy for him, because this guy got drafted with him and got sent straight to minors and now he’s getting a chance to prove himself, but all Kent can think about is the grin that Jeff flashed him after he stole the puck from him.

Sunny starts talking to Jeff after Patty is done with him and Kent doesn’t miss that Jeff actually tries to get him involved in their conversation and asks him questions about how he’s liking Vegas and compliments him on the great first season he’s having. And maybe Jeffrey Troy is actually a nice guy, maybe he fits in effortlessly, maybe he’s good at making people laugh, but Kent refuses to like him.

He hates Jeffrey Troy and his big goofy smile.

He hates Jeffrey Troy and that he scored a few minutes into the game.

He hates Jeffrey Troy. Period.

And nothing will change about that. So Kent glares a little and throws in a snide remark here and there and Jeff eventually gets the message and doesn’t try so hard to ask Kent questions anymore. Sunny shoots Kent a look – _I know we just lost a game but what the fuck crawled up your ass_ – but he thankfully doesn’t say anything. Kent just wants to go back to the hotel and sulk in peace.

Patty comes over with the captain of the Aeros and Jeff gets his hair ruffled and Kent puts on his brightest media smile.

He doesn’t say much, just listens, because those guys have played a lot of hockey and Kent still has a lot left to learn. Sunny eventually wanders off to talk to one of the Aeros’ goalies and Kent isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve this, but five minutes later it’s just him and Jeffrey Troy.

Kent looks over at him. He’s a couple of inches taller than Kent and if Kent wasn’t hell-bent on hating him, he might admit that Jeff is sort of good-looking. Just sort of. There are better-looking guys out there. Whatever.

Jeff smiles at him. He’s a smiley dude.

Kent really, really hates him.

“So,” Jeff says, “that was, uh, a pretty sweet goal earlier.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Kent says. He should probably say something nice back, but he’s not in a generous mood, so he looks straight ahead and tries to keep his thoughts from wandering. These days there’s only two things on his mind anyway. Hockey. And Jack.

Kent hasn’t heard from him. He’s starting to realize that he won’t, but that doesn’t keep him from hoping.

He makes the mistake of looking up and finds Jeff looking back at him, brows drawn together, thoughtful. A smile tugs at his lips when their eyes meet.

His eyes are nice. Warm and brown.

Kent looks away again.

“Well,” Jeff says, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Jeff smirks at Kent before he walks away and is pulled into a conversation with one of his teammates. Kent goes and finds Sunny and they don’t stick around for much longer, but Kent catches Jeff looking at him a few more times before they leave.

Or maybe Jeff catches Kent.

Kent just really doesn’t like him.

*

**Las Vegas, NV | February 2011**

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

Michael Sunley is the first goalie off the ice after practice and is expected to get the start in goal tonight against Houston. #AcesAeros

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

Parson is back in the lineup and rocking the A after missing five games due to a lower body injury.

 

 **Houston Aeros** @HoustonAeros

The #Aeros trail 2-0 after the 1st.

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

ACES WIN!! Final score: #Aces 4 - Aeros 0

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

Kent Parson returns with a hat trick, interview coming up! #AcesAeros

 

By the time Kent spots Jeffrey Troy and his Aeros buddies across the dancefloor, he’s pleasantly buzzed and doesn’t really care that they’ve somehow ended up at the same club. Although this is definitely _their_ club. The bouncers know them, they bartenders know them, and they all conveniently look away when a couple of underage hockey players waltz into the club.

Anyway, Kent doesn’t really care that some of the Aeros are here, too. He’s having a good night. He’s having the _best_ night. The Aeros are probably here to drown their sorrows.

“What are you grinning about?” Sunny asks and throws an arm around Kent. “See something you like?”

Kent tears his eyes away from Jeffrey Troy. He’s been playing with the Aeros instead of their farm team all season and with how well he’s been doing, they probably won’t send him back. Kent should get used to seeing him around. “Nah.”

“Well, we gotta find you someone to celebrate that hatty with.”

“Why don’t you go find yourself someone to celebrate that shutout with?” Kent says and shoves Sunny in the general direction of the dancefloor.

Kent tried to hook up with girls because that’s what he’s expected to do, but it’s just not– It’s not what he wants. He desperately wants someone’s hands on him, but he wants… well, he wants Jack, but Jack isn’t here, and maybe someone else would do, but it’s not like Kent can just take home some random guy. First of all, he lives with Sunny and no one on the team knows that he’s not _that_ into girls. Second of all, he might have done some stupid shit in the past, but this is not how he’s going to wreck his career before it’s barely even gotten started.

He follows Sunny onto the dance floor, finds someone to dance with, and she’s pretty, and Kent considers taking her home, but the thought makes his skin crawl so he gently steers her over to Sunny and escapes. He has no idea where the rest of his team is. He buys himself another beer and leans against the wall, scrolling through his messages.

There’s one from Jack’s dad that he opened earlier. He reads it again. And again. And no matter how many times he reads it, there won’t be a single word on Jack.

“Hey.”

Kent looks up. It’s Jeffrey Troy. Of fucking course. He’s been dancing. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a little sweaty, short strands sticking to his temples. He leans against the wall, smiling at Kent.

“Celebrating your win?” Jeff asks.

Kent raises his eyebrows at him. “Celebrating your loss?”

“You know,” Jeff says, “you were a bit of a douchebag when we first met and you haven’t changed at all.” There’s nothing malicious about the way he says it. He’s still smiling, like this is the most amusing conversation he’s ever had in his entire life. “Think you’re better than me, Parson?”

“What if I do?”

“Well, you’re the one with the hatty, so I’d say you’re right.”

Maybe Kent could like him a little bit. If he tried. He’s just not sure if he’s in the mood to try right now.

He wants to ask Jeff why he’s not dancing and bugging him instead. He wants to ask why he’s talking to him at all, because it’s not like they’re friends. They aren’t Patty and Franky. Jeff is still looking at him, his eyes wandering slowly down to Kent’s lips, down his neck, to the collar of his shirt, then back up again and if Kent didn’t know any better, he’d say that Jeff is checking him out.

“Not in the mood for dancing anymore?” Jeff asks. His eyes are still gentle, warm, but there’s a spark in them. Seriously, the way Jeff is looking at him right now is bordering on indecent.

It’s been a while since a guy has looked at Kent like that. And, well, maybe he likes it. Maybe he likes the idea of someone wanting him.

There is, of course, a chance that he’s totally misreading this. That Jeff is just drunk and that he doesn’t actually mean to undress Kent with his eyes right now, that Jeff is definitely, one hundred percent not interested. Kent shifts closer, just a little, so he could shrug it off and walk away, no harm done, but Jeff isn’t moving away.

Kent looks around. No one’s looking their way. He’s still not stupid enough to make a move on a guy in the middle of a club, but… He flexes his fingers and they bump against Jeff’s and Jeff’s smile gets a little brighter. Shit, they’re doing this, aren’t they? Kent wants to get his mouth on Jeffrey Troy, he really does, they just need to get out of here first. He’s going to take Jeff home and he’s going to find some way to sneak him past Sunny in the morning.

“So,” Kent says. He pulls his hand away. “How are you liking Vegas?”

“It’s okay,” Jeff says.

Kent barely understands what he’s saying over the music. He wants to drag Jeff back onto the dancefloor, wants to touch him, feel him against him, wants to slip his hands under Jeff’s shirt, wants to feel his skin under his fingertips. He loses himself in the thought of it for a moment, but he’ll never kiss a guy on a dance floor, so that’s that.

He empties his drink and puts the glass down on the empty table next to them. Kent’s about to ask Jeff if he wants to get the hell out of here, when Sunny pushes his way through a gaggle of people and slumps against Kent. “Dude, there you are, what…” Sunny frowns at Jeff. “Oh. Hey.” He punches him in the upper arm. “Tough game, huh?”

Jeff makes a face. “Yeah. Well, I guess I’ll see you guys around.”

“See ya, Swoopsie,” Sunny says and tries – and fails – to give Jeff a high five.

Kent watches Jeff disappear in the crowd, his heart beating like he just ran a mile. There go his plans for the rest of the night. He frowns at Sunny. “The fuck did you just call him?”

Sunny shrugs. “His guys call him Swoops.”

“Why?”

“I don’t even know,” Sunny says. “All right, man, listen, there’s this really hot girl waiting for me at the bar and I’m going home with her, so…”

“Don’t be late for practice tomorrow,” Kent says.

“Shit, it’s like you’re Patty.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s the plan. See ya, Parser.”

Kent tries to find Jeff after Sunny has disappeared with his girl, but it seems that he’s all out of luck for today.

*

**Houston, TX | October 2011**

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

Captain Kent Parson talks about the Aces’ 8-game winning streak and tonight’s game against Houston. #AcesNews

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

Parson wins it in OT!! Final score: #Aces 3 - Aeros 2

 

Kent is sitting in his bed, cross-legged, eyes on the door. He’s exhausted. They’re leaving for Dallas early tomorrow morning, and he should be sleeping, or resting, at least, but he got a text half an hour ago and there’s no way he’s going to sleep now.

_what’s your room number_

He usually doesn’t reply to unknown numbers, because sometimes the guys will give his number to girls and then he has to explain that he’s not interested, and it’s easier to just… not explain at all. The thing is, he knows that it’s Jeff who texted him. Because Jeff kept grinning at him from across the ice whenever there was a break during the game.

Kent knows better than to get distracted by a guy who’s trying to rile him up, but it wasn’t like Jeff was looking for a fight.

Then he got another text: _i got your number from franky and i guess he got it from one of your guys, don’t ask me what i owe franky now_

And another one: _anyway feel free to tell me to fuck off_

Well, Kent did not tell him to fuck off and sent him his room number instead. He spent the last half hour thinking about the time they were in that club in Vegas, about his fingers brushing against Jeff’s, about what might have happened if Sunny hadn’t shown up.

He almost trips out of bed when there’s a knock on his door.

Jeff barely manages to say hello before Kent pulls him into his room.

“Did anyone see you?” Kent asks.

“Dude, give me some credit,” Jeff says and pulls off his hat. He grins at Kent and now he’s definitely checking him out. Honestly, Kent likes having Jeff’s eyes on him. Mostly, he likes that his eyes aren’t blue. “Look at you, _Captain_.”

Kent rolls his eyes at him and tugs at Jeff’s hoodie. “Take that off.”

“So it’s all business and no small talk, huh?” Jeff says and pulls off his hoodie. “Well, I guess I can work with that.”

Kent can work with that, too. He stumbles out of his sweatpants, takes off his shirt, and then he freezes for a second. He hasn’t been with a guy in a while. He’s not sure if he remembers how this works. Whatever. He’s Kent Parson. And he’s about to get his hands on Jeffrey Troy and Kent really doesn’t hate him as much as he did when he first met him. Especially now that he’s getting a closer look at what he looks like with his shirt off.

He grabs Jeff, who’s still struggling out of his pants and pushes him down onto the bed. The pants Jeff was struggling with are gone a moment later.

Kent ducks down to kiss him and then there are fingers in his hair and this is exactly what he needed, and then Jeff grabs him by the hips and rolls them over, pushes him down, and, okay, _that_ is exactly what he needed.

And maybe it’s clumsy, and maybe it’s a little embarrassing how quickly it’s over, and maybe Kent makes some noises that he wishes he could take back, but Jeff feels so good against him and that guy can do things with his mouth that nearly kill Kent. And maybe he tells Jeff exactly that, and maybe he tells him a dozen times. They lose themselves in each other and it’s all frantic kisses and moans and sighs. Jeff smiles against his skin, that smug little shit, and then there’s just a hint of teeth grazing Kent’s neck and he is done for.

Jeff doesn’t move for a moment, and they’re a sweaty and sticky mess, both of them, but Kent wants to keep him here just for a little while longer. Because when Jeff leaves, Kent is going to be alone with his thoughts. He can already feel the memory of Jack scratching at him, ready to sink in its claws, and he wants a few more minutes of silence, he wants a few more minutes to enjoy this, to feel the warmth of Jeff’s hands, to feel Jeff’s breath tickling his skin.

“Wow, okay,” Jeff says. He groans when he rolls off Kent, fingers quickly slipping back into Kent’s hair, smoothing it back. He grins. “So, how long’s it been?”

Kent raises an eyebrow, because _what the fuck_.

“A while, huh?”

“Shut up, it wasn’t that bad,” Kent says and smirks at him. It’s the one he always puts on for the media, too. It works. People usually don’t try to look behind it.

Jeff lightly tugs at his hair. “Nah, that’s not what I meant. I’m just wondering, like, I try not to sneak away with guys too often, I don’t want anyone to… you know, get suspicious or whatever. I haven’t told anyone.”

“Yeah,” Kent says. He hasn’t told anyone either. He thought about telling Sunny and it seemed like a good idea for about five seconds, then he realized that he really shouldn’t take that kind of risk. It’d be nice to have someone on his side and Sunny is a great guy, no doubt about it, but this isn’t the kind of secret that’s easily shared.

He glances at Jeff. He knows now. Well, they’re in the same boat. That’s different.

Jeff’s fingers still and Kent almost wants to tell him to keep going. He tilts his head up and Jeff gets the message and starts running his fingers through Kent’s hair again. Maybe he needed that as well. Jeff’s still a smug little shit, but Kent’s just not going to care about that for the next two minutes or so. He closes his eyes and doesn’t open them again until Jeff’s hand is gone all of a sudden.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in Vegas in three weeks,” Jeff says.

“Hey,” Kent says and grabs Jeff by the wrist before he can get up. He smirks again but this one comes easy. “Wanna take a shower before you leave?”

“Guess that’s not a bad idea.”

So Kent tugs Jeff into that tiny hotel shower with him, and when Jeff is back in his clothes Kent pins him to the door for a little while before he lets him go.

“Hey, Troy?”

“Yeah, Parson?”

“How did you know?”

Jeff lets his head fall back against the door. He looks completely wrecked, hair still damp, lips pink, eyes heavy. It’s a good look on him. “How did I know what?”

“How did you know I’m…”

“Into guys?”

Kent glares at the ceiling. “Yeah.”

“Just a hunch, I guess.”

“A hunch?”

“Yeah, I saw you checking me out and–”

“I wasn’t checking you out,” Kent says. He wasn’t.

Okay, maybe a little.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Jeff picks up his hat and pulls it on. “See you in Vegas.”

“Yeah, see you in Vegas when we wipe the floor with you.”

“Tell you what,” Jeff says, “if you win, you get to do whatever you want with me.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Within reason.”

“And what if you win?” Kent asks.

“I don’t know… If we win, I’ll probably be too busy laughing at your cocky ass to do anything else.”

Kent shoves him out the door after that.

*

**Las Vegas, NV | February 2012**

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

Captain Kent Parson discusses the #Aces’ upcoming road trip to Boston, Providence, Pittsburgh and Washington. #AcesNews

 

 **Seattle Schooners** @Schooners

#Schooners acquire F Jeffrey Troy from Houston Aeros in exchange for D Jake Michaels.

 

Kent blinks down at his phone. The laughter and chatter of his teammates is strangely far away all of a sudden. They traded Jeff to Seattle. The tweet is from three hours ago and Jeff hasn’t tweeted about it himself, then again, Jeff keeps saying that he hates Twitter and only made an account because the Aeros’ PR people thought it was a good idea.

Kent has no idea what to do. Call? Text? Pretend he doesn’t know? It’s not like he and Jeff are the best of friends, but they’re more than strangers, they’re more than two guys who see each other on the ice a couple of times a year.

He snuck into Jeff’s hotel room like Jeff snuck into his when the Aeros were in Vegas in January, after the Aces pretty much destroyed the Aeros. He snuck back out at four in the morning, a little more relaxed, a little more exhausted, but in the best possible way. Last week, in Houston, Jeff was back in Kent’s room and Kent fell asleep with Jeff tucked against him. When he woke up again, sometime around two in the morning, Jeff was gone but there was a note on the nightstand, scribbled on the back of a Chick-fil-A receipt.

_See you around, cuddlemuffin._

The next morning, Kent sent Jeff a picture of himself, still in bed, still buck-naked, flipping him off.

Kent thought that this could work, he thought they could get away with this. They have an unspoken arrangement now and nothing will change even now that Jeff is headed for Seattle. So this doesn’t really concern Kent, does it?

Still, he pulls up Jeff’s contact on his phone. Still, his thumb hovers over the call button.

He looks around, and even though no one’s paying him any mind because everyone’s pulling off their practice jerseys and pads, Kent doesn’t want to do this with anyone listening in. So he slips out of the locker room on socked feet and calls Jeff. They are friends. They send texts back and forth all the fucking time. Really, Kent owes him a call.

It kind of takes him by surprise when Jeff answers. “Parse, what’s up?”

“Uh, hi,” Kent says. He has no idea what to say. “I saw…”

“Ah,” Jeff says. “Yeah.”

Objectively speaking, the Schooners are a better team than the Aeros. This season, the Aeros had more losing streaks than winning streaks. Jeff is a decent player, and he definitely has the potential to be far more than decent, but the Aeros never really gave him that chance.

Kent has no idea if Jeff actually likes Houston. He definitely likes his teammates, though. Kent knows what that is like. Maybe Vegas wouldn’t have been Kent’s first choice, maybe he hated it in the beginning, but the Aces are his boys now. He’d be sad if he had to leave.

“So, are you…” He doesn’t want to ask Jeff if he’s okay. Kent knows full well that there’s no easy answer to that question, so he trails off and hopes that Jeff will fill in the blanks.

“It feels weird,” Jeff says. “I mean, I knew it wasn’t likely that I’d stay in Houston for the rest of my career, but… I’m gonna miss the guys.”

“At least you’ll still get to play against them,” Kent says.

Jeff groans. “I shouldn’t have answered the phone.”

“Yeah, why did you?”

“I don’t know, I thought you might have something intelligent to say for once.”

Kent looks up and down the hall. No one around. “Well, I know who won’t be getting laid when I see you in Seattle.”

“Dude, that’s harsh,” Jeff says. “Really harsh.” He’s trying to joke around, but Kent is starting to realize that this is actually really hard on him. And he doesn’t really know what to do about it, because he’s in Vegas and Jeff is in Houston. He doesn’t know how to talk to Jeff about it either, because Jeff isn’t one of the guys on his team and he can’t give him a pat on the back and a pep talk. Jeff is a friend, and Kent doesn’t have that great of a track record when it comes to friends.

Every time something good happens to him, he wants to call Jack, and every time something bad happens to him, he wants to call Jack, too. Most of all, he just really wants to stop thinking about Jack, and he wants to stop dreaming about Jack, but he can’t stop holding on either.

Kent is so bad at this.

“What do you want?” Kent asks. “A sympathy blowjob?”

“To start with, yeah.”

“Fine,” Kent says. “Hold that thought, yeah?”

“Yeah, all right,” Jeff says, and Kent can hear the hint of a smile in his voice now. That’s good enough for now.

*

**Las Vegas, NV | July 2012**

 

 **Kent Parson** @kentparson90

just chillin with my new cereal bowl

 

Kent spends some time at his mom’s place, ignores his mom’s boyfriend, and is inexplicably glad that his sister is around to keep him company, even though she spends half the day texting her boyfriend. They celebrate his birthday and they eat Fruit Loops out of the Stanley Cup when he has it for the day, then he takes it to the rink and takes pictures of it with the kids hugging it and of the kids skating around it and of his old coach lifting it up. Then he posts a dozen pictures on Instagram and then the Cup moves on with its life and so does Kent.

He nearly sends a picture to Jack. Nearly. But it’s not like he wants to rub it in Jack’s face or anything. He just wants a reason to talk to him.

He sends a picture to Jeff instead.

Jeff sends back a picture of himself with a gigantic bowl of ice cream.

_fuck you and your fruit loops_

“You could stay another week, Kenny,” his mom says the day before Kent is supposed to fly back to Vegas. It’s true, he could stay another week, no one’s expecting him back yet, but his sister is leaving tonight and Kent isn’t putting up with his mom’s boyfriend all on his own.

“Can’t, sorry,” Kent says. “I, uh… A friend of mine might swing by for a couple of days.”

Of course Kent has zero friends swinging by. The place he shares with Sunny is going to be empty for a little while longer. He has a couple of appointments, stuff he keeps pushing off during the season, and then he’ll start training for next season. The guys will come back, one by one, and he’ll have two new kids to show around. He’ll be on self-imposed rookie duty, because he knows what 18-year-old guys might get up to when they’re in Vegas and unsupervised. Patty mostly made sure that Kent stayed out of trouble when he was a rookie. _Mostly_. So, yeah, he knows.

When he curls up in bed later on, he still feels strange about sleeping in his old room, even though he’s been here for over two weeks. Nothing’s changed ever since he moved to Vegas. There’s a picture of him and Jack on the shelf, taken when Kent was visiting the Zimmermanns in Montreal for the first time, and he can’t bring himself to take it down.

Kent picks up his phone. It’s nearly midnight. Jeff’s down in Florida, visiting his grandparents with the rest of his family. Kent shouldn’t call him.

He calls him anyway.

Jeff answers after the second ring. He doesn’t bother with a hello. “Well, well, if it isn’t Stanley Cup champion Kent Parson.”

“Hey,” Kent says.

“You okay?”

The question takes Kent by surprise. “Yeah. Sure.”

“It’s just…” Jeff draws in a deep breath. “You called me. You don’t usually do that. Unless you want to know what room I’m in and I fell asleep and don’t answer your texts.”

“What room _are_ you in?” Kent asks.

“Why, do you want to come over?”

Actually... “That wouldn't be a terrible idea if you weren’t in fucking _Florida_.”

“Hey, I’m having a pretty good time. I wrestled an alligator earlier. Then I had to lie down at the pool for the rest of the day because it’s just too fucking hot.”

“Sounds great.”

Jeff hums. He sounds a little sleepy. It’d actually be kind of nice if Kent could go to his place. They haven’t seen each other since before the playoffs and Kent really wouldn’t mind having Jeff’s hands all over him right now. He also wouldn’t mind having Jeff’s mouth all over him.

“Hey, Jeff.”

“Ah, here we go,” Jeff says, and he’s so very clearly smiling that Kent can’t keep himself from grinning as well.

“Wanna hang out next week?” Kent asks.

Bedsheets rustle, then Jeff says, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Maybe he wasn’t a hundred percent serious at first. But he is now. “Yeah.”

“‘Course you are.”

“I can get you plane tickets.”

“I can get my own plane tickets.”

“So you’re coming to Vegas?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually considering this.” Jeff sighs. “Your ass isn’t actually that great.”

“Wow, hurtful.”

“Are you gonna go cry into your Stanley Cup now?”

Kent snorts. It doesn’t sound too attractive. “I–”

“Oh shit, did I just make you laugh?”

“Shut up.”

“I did.”

Jeffrey Troy is smug asshole and Kent fucking hates him. “I’m hanging up,” Kent says. “Bye. See you in Vegas. Bring condoms.”

Jeff is still laughing when Kent ends the call.

He picks Jeff up at the airport a couple of days later and Jeff chirps him about his car and when Kent drives back to his and Sunny’s place, Jeff’s hand is on his thigh and it’s fucking killing him. “Hey, can we get something to eat,” Jeff says, so Kent stops at the next best diner, buys them burgers and then, finally, takes Jeff home.

Sunny is still in Canada, so they have the house to themselves. The first thing Kent does is to push Jeff into his bedroom, against the wall, and Jeff goes willingly, grinning when Kent eventually drags him into bed.

They order pizza for dinner and Kent gets out of bed long enough to open the door when it’s delivered. He’s hastily pulled on his sweatpants and the shirt he peeled Jeff out of earlier and his hair is most likely all over the place, but he honestly couldn’t give less of a shit.

Jeff is waiting for him in bed, still naked, sprawled out on top of the sheets. Kent stops in the doorway for a second and lets out a soft breath.

“Like what you see?”

This once, Kent doesn’t chirp him, he just says, “Yeah.”

Jeff is only staying for three days and Kent intends to make the most of them.

The sun goes down and Kent doesn’t bother turning on the lights. He keeps kissing Jeff and Jeff keeps kissing him back and it’s gentle and slow and neither of them is trying to take this any further and it’s… nice, in a really strange and unexpected way. They’ve never slept in the same bed before. Jeff has never stayed the night and neither has Kent. Wherever they are, one of them always ends up sneaking back out of the other’s hotel room.

Kent eventually falls asleep with his head pillowed on Jeff’s chest, Jeff’s fingers in his hair. And of course tonight, the night that someone sleeps in his bed with him for the first time in forever, is one of those nights that Kent finds Jack Zimmermann unconscious on a bathroom floor in his dreams. Of course tonight is one of those nights that he wakes up shaking.

“Parse?”

“‘m fine,” Kent says. “Just had a weird dream.”

Jeff shifts closer, wrapping his arms around Kent. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” His heart his beating way too fast. Jeff holds him closer. And… this is not what they do. He tries to wiggle away from Jeff. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

“Mhhm…” Jeff’s nose is pressed into Kent’s hair and he’s not letting go. Whatever. If Jeff wants to cuddle, that’s fine. Kent takes a careful breath, lets it out again, and does his best not to think of that dream. There were way too many memories in it. Jack Zimmermann just won’t stop haunting him and it pisses him off.

Sometimes he dreams of Jack and they’re both fine and Jack is smiling at him, laughing, and afterwards Kent wakes up and wonders if they could go back to being those people. He wants to. He wants to go back there so much it hurts.

Jeff mumbles something that Kent doesn’t quite catch.

“What?”

Jeff mumbles a little more, but this time it’s even more unintelligible.

“Whatever you say, Troy.”

Kent doesn’t fall asleep for some time. He stares into the darkness instead and eventually turns over, Jeff’s arms still loosely wrapped around him. It takes approximately one second for Jeff to scoot even closer. Who would have thought that Jeffrey Troy is so cuddly.

It’s late and Kent is really fucking tired, and he doesn’t even know what he’s thinking, but he _likes_ it. Kent sighs and gives in to the fact that maybe he needed this. And that maybe Jeff has been really good at giving him things he didn’t even know he needed right from the start.

When he wakes up, Jeff is drooling and Kent sort of wants to snap a picture. Not that it’s a good idea for him to have a picture of a drooling naked guy on his phone. Kent grabs his phone, replies to a couple of messages that can’t wait, checks Twitter, and by the time he looks over again, Jeff is awake, brown eyes fixed on Kent, still a little bleary, still soft around the edges.

“Mornin’,” Jeff says.

Kent grins at him and tugs at the sheets, slowly pulling them off and away. “And a very good morning to you, too.”

*

**Seattle, WA | March 2013**

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

The boys are ready for their first and only game in Seattle this season #AcesSchooners

 

 **Seattle Schooners** @Schooners

The #Schooners lead 1-0 after the 1st period.

 

 **Seattle Schooners** @Schooners

ANOTHER GOAL FROM TROY! The #Schooners lead 3-1 with 13:34 left in the 3rd period.

 

Ricky and Andersson are shoving each other around behind the Aces’ goal. Kent isn’t exactly surprised because this fight has been building up ever since the first period when one of the Schooners tripped Ricky and didn’t get a penalty for it.

Gloves go flying and the crowd goes nuts.

It’s a rough game, a fast game, and Jeff has been on fire. If Kent wasn’t so pissed off, he might actually be impressed. Jeff scored in the first, got an assist on the Schooners’ second goal and then scored again a couple of minutes ago. This game has been his from the start.

Kent hates Jeffrey Troy.

Jeff skates up to Kent with the biggest, smuggest grin on his face. “How’s it goin’, Parse?”

Kent glares at the scoreboard. “How do think it’s going, _Swoops_? What sort of nickname is that anyway?”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of my two goals.”

“You going for a hatty?”

“Don’t wanna jinx it, man.” Jeff lightly taps his stick against Kent’s and nods at Ricky and Andersson, who are now being pulled apart by two officials. “Hey… Wanna go, too?”

“Later,” Kent says. He almost winks at Jeff. Almost. They’re still in the middle of a game. And the Aces aren’t in the best position right now, so he needs to think a little less about _later_ and a little more about how they’re going to score twice, or, preferably, three times before the end of regulation.

They don’t see each other later.

Jeff scores again with less than a minute left on the clock and Kent gets a text from Jeff before he’s even out of the locker room – _don’t think i’ll make it tonight, soz bro._

Well. Whatever.

When they’re back at the hotel, Kent goes straight to bed and sulks. It’s not that he isn’t happy for Jeff, it’s more that he’d be happier for him if he was under Kent right now. Or on top of him. Kent isn’t that picky. With the lockout, they haven’t seen each other since the summer and Kent is definitely on the verge of doing something really stupid like hook up with some random guy in a club.

He went to see Jack at college after he’d won the Cup, just to catch up, and he didn’t have any expectations, not really, but maybe he was hoping that something might fall into place there. Jack didn’t want to see him, though, and Kent still feels hollow when he thinks about it.

Kent gets another text from Jeff about an hour later and it’s nothing but random letters. At least one of them is having a good time, right?

*

**Las Vegas, NV | November 2013**

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

ACES WIN! Final score: #Aces 2 - Schooners 1

 

Kent stretches and grins when he catches Jeff looking. “Well,” Kent says. He should get going. But then Jeff reaches out to run his fingers up and down his stomach so maybe he can stay for a little while longer.

“How are things?” Jeff asks.

Kent was going to ask Jeff the same thing earlier, but they didn’t do much talking after Jeff kicked the door of his hotel room shut.

Jeff’s been having a rough season, got injured in the second game, had to sit out a couple of games afterwards, and now he’s back, but he looks tired. Kent sort of wants to tell him to go the fuck to sleep, but then Jeff might stop touching him and, anyway, Kent’s not his mom.

“Fine,” Kent says. Things are going all right for him. It’s not the best season he’s ever had, but he’s still scoring enough that he’s not too worried.

Jeff rolls over with a sigh and checks his phone.

“Hey,” Kent says and leans over the edge of the mattress to fish his pants off the floor. He pries his phone out of the pocket and pulls up the picture of Kit he took this morning. “Look how cute she is.”

“I swear to God…”

“What?”

“No, it’s cool, I love getting daily cat updates.”

“You should have come over to my place,” Kent says. “She looks like a bit of a diva, but she’s actually really cuddly.”

Jeff laughs and his eyes get all crinkly and the mattress shakes and Kent has no idea what the fuck is so funny. Then Jeff says, “So, what you’re saying is, she’s basically like you.”

Kent grabs a pillow and half-heartedly whacks Jeff over the head. “She’s much fluffier than I am.”

“Really?” Jeff says. He drags his fingers through Kent’s hair, pulls a little, and his other hand brushes against Kent’s fingers and pulls away his phone. Kent has no idea where it ends up; he’s too preoccupied with Jeff’s lips on his neck.

“If you give me a hickey, I’ll murder you.”

Jeff bites at his skin and Kent moans. Now he’s playing dirty. It wouldn’t be the first time that Kent shows up at practice covered in bruises. And then the guys chirp him and whistle and Kent smirks about it because, yeah, whatever, he got laid and it was great. It’s always great with Jeff. The guys can never know that it was Jeff, though. That’s his dirty little secret and right now it looks like it’s one that he’ll be taking to the grave.

“Fine,” Jeff whispers, and now he’s really going for it. “Murder me. If you still can.”

“Fucking hell.”

Kent didn’t mean to stay for long. He has two more games this week, but now Jeff is making his way downwards and Kent isn’t going _anywhere_.

When Jeff is done with him – and Kent is done with Jeff – he doesn’t think so much about murder anymore. He thinks about how he has to leave, really this time, about how he could fall asleep right here, with Jeff plastered against him, sweaty and warm, still catching his breath.

It reminds him of last summer when Jeff came to Vegas. The Aces didn’t make it to the last round of playoffs and after Sunny went home to spend some time with his family, Jeff came ‘round for a week, slept in Kent’s bed for a week, wrapped himself around Kent at night for a week, and made him breakfast every morning for a week. It was a damn good week. 

Sunny moved out before the season started. He lives with his girlfriend now. And at the beginning of the season, the Aces did some charity thing with an animal shelter and Kent brought home Kit. And the guys keep chirping him about her, but they secretly love her and come by to hang out at his place and snuggle her.

Jeff presses his face into the crook of Kent’s neck and it reminds him of last summer, too.

“I should go,” Kent says.

“Or you could stay,” Jeff mumbles.

Kent actually considers it. For about half a second. He can’t stay. They don’t do this, not during the season. “Nah, I gotta go.”

“Parse, it’s really fucking late, and I’m really fucking tired, and you can’t tell me that you’re not really fucking tired as well.”

“Jeff,” Kent says and it comes out a little too harsh. “This is not…” He sits up. This is not what they do and it shouldn’t become a thing they do either. “I mean, don’t think– Don’t…”

Well, where he’s going with this is something like, _Don’t you dare fall in love with me_. He obviously can’t say that out loud, because he doesn’t need Jeff to think that he’s totally lost it. Kent just doesn’t want this to get complicated. There’s a line and they crossed it last summer and they crossed it the summer before that, and that’s more than enough line-crossing already.

Jeff runs his knuckles down Kent’s spine. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m just asking you to stay the night.”

“I can’t,” Kent says and slips out of bed.

“Okay.” Jeff pulls up the sheets, curls up on his side, and watches Kent as he gets dressed. “See you in Seattle.”

Kent nods. He kisses Jeff before he leaves. Jeff kisses him back, and sighs when Kent pulls away, and for a moment Kent thinks maybe he should stay after all. But sharing a bed with Jeff is a nightmare, because he’s a restless sleeper and sometimes he pulls Kent closer in the middle of the night and nuzzles into his hair and when he’s being extra obnoxious, he kicks. So, no, he shouldn’t stay.

He shouldn’t even _want_ to stay.

*

**Seattle, WA | January 2014**

 

 **Seattle Schooners** @Schooners

#Schooners win 5-0 and Samuel West gets his 5th shutout of the season!

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

Coach Henderson will be speaking to the media shortly.

 

Kent probably should have told Jeff not to come tonight. The Aces lost after winning six games in a row, he’s in the worst fucking mood and he doesn’t feel like being around anyone right now. Three of his guys are injured, all their lines have been reshuffled and it’s a godforsaken mess and Kent wants to sleep for at least a day.

Then Jeff knocks on his door and Kent doesn’t really want to send him away, but he’s not exactly enthusiastic when Jeff kisses him either.

“What is it?” Jeff asks.

“What do you think?” Kent grumbles.

Jeff huffs out a laugh and slowly walks Kent over to the bed. “You are _so_ bad at losing.”

Kent rolls his eyes. “Can we not?”

“Why are you so pissy, dude? It’s not the first time you’ve lost a game.”

It’s not, of course it’s not, but it’s a loss that stings.

Jeff takes a step back and folds his arms across his chest. “Still think you’re better than me, huh, Parson? Is that it?”

The thing is, Kent doesn’t. He knows that he’s good, he knows he’s one of the best players in the league right now, and okay, maybe Jeff hasn’t scored quite as many goals, and maybe he doesn’t get the same kind of attention, but Jeff is a great player. And there are so many ways in which Jeff is better than him that Kent can’t even count them. “I don’t.”

“No, but you do.”

No, he doesn’t, but he’s having a bad day and he doesn’t know how to say that and make it sound like he actually means it. And, okay, maybe he thought they had a good chance of winning that game today. The Schooners have been struggling quite a bit. “Well, it’s not like you guys were on a winning streak or anything.”

“Wow,” Jeff says. “Honestly… fuck you.”

“Hey, I was just–”

“You were kidding? Is that what you were gonna say? Because I don’t fucking care if you were kidding.”

“Jeff, come on.”

“No, you know what,” Jeff says. “I’m gonna go.”

“Seriously?”

Jeff doesn’t reply, doesn’t even look at Kent, he just leaves. And Kent sits on his bed and stares at the door and wonders why the fuck he couldn’t just keep his damn mouth shut.

*

**Las Vegas, NV | February 2014**

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

We have a special Valentine’s Day surprise for everyone coming to tonight’s game against the Schooners. #EvenForSchoonersFans

|

 **Seattle Schooners** @Schooners

@LVAces Does that mean you’ll be our Valentine?

|

 **Houston Aeros** @HoustonAeros

@Schooners @LVAces We thought you were going to be *our* Valentine?

 

Kent hasn’t talked to Jeff since he walked out of his hotel room at the end of January. He doesn’t even think about texting him tonight. Not on fucking Valentine’s Day.

After the game – the Aces won 4-3, they nearly went into overtime, and Jeff barely even looked at Kent – he goes home, grabs a pint of ice cream and curls up on the couch with Kit. All the single guys on the team tried to talk him into going out with them, but Kent wasn’t really in the mood to pretend that he’s even remotely interested in hooking up with a girl.

He thinks about Jack. He thinks about Jeff. He eats way too much ice cream. He thinks about Jack again. Kit falls asleep in his lap and Kent takes a photo and puts it on Instagram. _My date fell asleep on me_.

 **jefftroy14** liked your photo.

Kent thinks about calling Jeff. It’s getting late but he could still drive to Jeff’s hotel. If Jeff even wants to see him, that is.

“I could just text him,” Kent says to Kit.

Kits purrs softly, but that’s about it for their conversation.

And while Kent thinks, and then thinks a little more, the minutes tick away and he never really gets anywhere. He ends up scrolling through Instagram and finds a picture of Samuel West and a bunch of Schooners at some club. Jeff is there too, his smile lopsided, his shirt offensively tight.

Kent hates Jeffrey Troy.

He scrolls through his contacts and finds Jack’s. He falls asleep like that. With his phone in his hand and Kit in his lap and some ridiculous romcom on TV.

Kent wakes up again when his doorbell rings.

His phone has slid out of his hand, but Kit is still fast asleep. He carefully scoops her onto a pillow and she briefly glares at him before she closes her eyes again. It’s past midnight and there really aren’t too many people who’d show up on his doorstep this late. Kent sincerely hopes that it’s not some kind of rookie emergency.

It’s not. It’s Jeff.

Jeff, on his doorstep, slightly disheveled, in jeans and that stupidly tight shirt and a leather jacket. What an asshole.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Surprise, I know where you live,” Jeff says. He leans against the frame of the door. Perhaps Jeff is a little drunk. “You owe me an apology.”

Might as well get it over with. “I’m–”

“No, actually, fuck all that _I’m sorry_ bullshit, you don’t mean it anyway. I’m just saying. You owe me an apology. And I don’t even care if I get one.”

The thing is, if Jeff gave him a chance to apologize, Kent might actually mean it. Instead of trying, he says, “You wanna meet Kit?”

And that’s how Jeff ends up on Kent’s couch, on fucking Valentine’s Day, Kit in his arms, his head resting against Kent’s shoulder, _The Notebook_ on TV. Jeff has never seen it and Kent thinks that maybe he should warn him. He doesn’t.

As they’re nearing the end of the movie, Jeff sniffles.

“Are you crying?” Kent whispers.

“No, are you?”

“No,” Kent says and wipes away a tear. He’s weirdly glad that Jeff doesn’t know him well enough to know that Kent cries about most movies. When the movie’s over, Kent turns off the TV, but neither of them moves. He gives Jeff a nudge. “You wanna make out?”

“Fine, whatever.”

They end up in Kent’s bedroom, their clothes end up on the floor, and Kent ends up taking Jeff apart with his mouth. Maybe that can be his apology. Jeff definitely doesn’t look unhappy afterwards.

He pulls Kent close, like he always does, and Kent lets him, like he always does, and they kiss for a little while, but their kisses soon turn into lazy nuzzling, and then they just lie next to each other, Jeff’s arm heavy around Kent’s waist, Kent’s head tucked under Jeff’s chin. Kent knows that it doesn’t mean anything, that Jeff just likes this, and it doesn’t really matter if it’s Kent he’s cuddling or someone else, but to Kent it almost feels like it’s too much. Too intimate. Too close to something he doesn’t want this to be.

But maybe he likes it, too. Maybe he likes it too much to tell Jeff to knock it off. 

“Do you ever hook up with other guys?” Jeff asks.

“When I feel like I can get away with it.” Which is really not often enough. Kent doesn’t ask Jeff if he ever does. Because the answer’s probably yes and Kent doesn’t really want to think about Jeff and other random guys right now.

“Does anyone on your team know?”

“Not yet,” Kent says.

“But maybe at some point?”

“Maybe.”

Jeff hums thoughtfully. “I told Sam. Our goalie. Not about you, just… you know. He’s a decent guy. Said the other guys would probably be okay with it, too.”

“And now you’re thinking about telling them?” Kent asks. In all honestly, sometimes Kent just wants to say it, right in the middle of the locker room. He knows for a fact that most of his guys would be okay with it. Most of them, but there’s always that nagging doubt.

“I don’t know. If I end up staying in Seattle for a while… maybe.” Jeff falls silent and Kent isn’t sure what to say. Kent doesn’t have to worry too much about being traded, not anymore. Then Jeff asks, “Haven’t you ever told anyone else?”

“Not explicitly.”

“No exes?” Jeff laughs. “Hey, wasn’t there some rumor going around that you were dating Taylor Swift?”

“I mean, if I was in any way into girls…” Kent trails off. He doesn’t feel like discussing his sexuality with Jeff right now. “Anyway, Britney is the only woman in my life.”

“Oh, great, now I gotta compete with Britney.”

“And she’s winning.”

“Whatever am I going to do,” Jeff says, his hand slowly trailing down Kent’s spine. It comes to a rest on the small of Kent’s back. “Don’t you ever want to…”

“What?”

“Nah, you’re gonna take this the wrong way.”

“Fuck’s sake, just say it.”

“I’m just wondering,” Jeff says quietly. “Don’t you ever want something more than hotel rooms and sneaking around and lying to your team? And I don’t mean with me, so don’t freak out, okay? It’s just… I think about that sometimes, you know? That maybe someday I’ll meet a guy that I’ll want a real relationship with. And then what?”

“And then you’ll make it work somehow,” Kent says. He gives Jeff a poke. “You’re a true romantic, aren’t you?”

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’ve never been in love with anyone.”

Kent only sighs. Fuck Jeff for bringing Jack Zimmermann into this. Well, Jeff couldn’t have known, but still, Kent doesn’t need this shit today.

“Oh,” Jeff says, like he understood exactly what was in that sigh. He smooths Kent’s hair back. “You still love him?”

A lot of things would be a great deal easier if Kent knew the answer to that question. In the end, he says, “Sometimes.”

“That fucking sucks, man,” Jeff says and holds him a little tighter.

*

**Las Vegas, NV | June 2014**

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

#Aces acquire F Jeffrey Troy from Schooners in exchange for F Brian Alberts and a 2014 5th-round pick. #AcesNews

 

Kent’s phone is ringing. His phone is ringing and he’s not sure where he is or where his phone is or why his head hurts so much but– His phone stops ringing. Only to start again after five quiet seconds.

He rubs his eyes and makes an attempt to assess the situation he’s currently in. He’s at home. In his living room. On the couch. Kent’s wearing one shoe. Sunny is on his couch, too, fast asleep, hugging a pillow. Shirtless. And Ricky is also on his couch, upside down, dead to the world.

Right. Ricky’s girlfriend broke up with him and Kent and Sunny took it upon themselves to get Ricky completely wasted. And while they got Ricky completely wasted, Kent and Sunny did the same, and now Kent feels like something died in his mouth. Thinking hurts. Moving seems impossible. He hasn’t been this hungover since the night it became clear that they weren’t going to make it to playoffs this year.

His phone starts buzzing again and his still sluggish brain realizes that this is something important, because either a lot of people are calling him or the same person keeps calling him and whatever this is about isn’t anything good.

“Fuck,” Kent whispers. His phone’s on the table and moving his arm to get it might actually kill him.

It doesn’t, but moving wasn’t the best idea he’s ever had.

Jeff is calling him.

Kent picks up and says, “This better be good.”

“You don’t know yet,” Jeff says.

Something’s wrong, Kent can tell. He actually knew before he even picked up. Jeff usually doesn’t call him. “I literally just woke up, what the fuck happened? You okay?”

“Yeah, so… looks like I’ll be coming to Vegas.”

“Why are you…” Kent rubs his eyes. He’s still a little slow, okay? He doesn’t even remember how much tequila he had last night, but it was too much. Anyway, it takes him a moment to figure out that Jeff isn’t talking about a quick trip to Vegas. “Oh, fuck. You have got to be shitting me.”

Sunny’s blinking at him, already frowning. Kent isn’t sure if he’s worried or if he’s trying not to throw up.

Jeff isn’t saying anything.

“Hey,” Kent says, “can I call you back in a bit? I gotta shove Sunny and Ricky’s asses off my couch first.”

They’re going to need to talk about some things, because Kent can’t hook up with a teammate, and he usually helps the new guys find a place to stay and he shows them around, but this time it’s different because it’s _Jeff_. Life isn’t giving him lemons, it’s fucking throwing them at him. Kent sighs.

“Right. Yeah, sure,” Jeff says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Kent hangs up.

Sunny looks like he wants to ask what’s going on, but in the end he only says, “Breakfast?”

Ricky groans. Well, at least he’s alive.

“Yeah, same,” Kent mumbles.

“Guys, come on.” Sunny sits up and seems to regret it half a second later. “We’ll feel… so much better if we get something really greasy to eat. Bacon. We need bacon.”

Ricky’s reply is yet another zombie groan.

“I actually want to die,” Kent says. And not just because this is one of the worst hangovers he’s ever had the misfortune of experiencing.

*

**Las Vegas, NV | January 2015**

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

All expected players are on the ice for the #Aces morning skate.

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

#Aces extend their winning streak, @jefftroy14 gets a hat trick against the Aeros, and more on today’s episode of AcesTV.

 

Jeff pulls him aside after practice in early January. He follows Kent out the locker room, takes him by the arm and pulls him through a door, into the stairwell.

“What do you want?” Kent asks. He doesn’t particularly feel like talking. He’s tired and frustrated and being ambushed is just about the last thing he needed today. He wants to be left alone and go home and cuddle Kit for the rest of the day.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Jeff says. He doesn’t snap at him, doesn’t raise his voice, he just asks, his voice low, soft, his eyes even softer, full of concern.

“Nothing’s going on.”

“So you haven’t been acting weird for the last couple of weeks, huh?”

Kent looks down at his feet and wonders how he could get out of this. Maybe he should fake a mysterious illness that lasts for about five minutes and gets him away from Jeff.

“Look, I know I’ve only been here for a couple of months, but I know that you care about this team, and I know that you’ll literally drop everything if one of those guys needs your help,” Jeff says. “The thing is, they’re there for you too and I feel like you’ve somehow forgotten about that.”

“Swoops, it’s–”

Okay, honestly, calling him Swoops still feels weird. But Kent decided that he can’t keep calling him Jeff. Jeff is the guy he used to hook up with and Kent really needed to distance himself from that. Still needs to.

“It’s nothing?” Jeff says.

Kent wants nothing more than to reach out to him, but he can’t. They agreed that their arrangement was over after Jeff got traded to Vegas. Well, it was over after they spent twenty-four hours in Kent’s bed last summer. He doesn’t look at Jeff when he says, “I did something stupid when we were in Boston in December.”

“How stupid?”

“Really stupid.”

“What happened?”

Kent shakes his head.

“Parse,” Jeff says. “How stupid?”

“It’s just… personal shit.”

“Okay, but the guys are starting to notice you and your personal shit.”

“I’m keeping it off the ice,” Kent says. Seriously. He’s not letting that absolutely disastrous visit at Samwell ruin the only thing he still has left.

“Sure, you’re keeping it off the ice, but you’re not keeping it out of the locker room. You should probably apologize to Benny, you didn’t have to snap at him like that.” Jeff leans against the wall. “If you don’t want to talk to me, find someone else to talk to, because sooner or later your shitty moods are gonna start affecting the team.”

Kent takes a deep breath. Everything’s just so, so fucked up. “I just…”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know how to stop.”

“How to stop being an asshole?”

“Pretty much.”

“I told you. Apologize.”

“What if an apology doesn’t do it?”

“Dude, it’s not like Benny’s gonna hold a grudge or whatever. Just tell him you’re having a bad day, he’ll understand.”

“No, not Benny… I…”

“Oh, we’re talking about whatever you fucked up in Boston now?”

Kent’s fingernails are digging into his palm. He hates Jack, he hates him for not answering his calls after Kent found him half-dead on the bathroom floor, for shutting him out, for acting like they never meant a thing to each other. And yet Kent held on for years. Part of him is _still_ holding on. And he hates himself for that. He hates himself for what he said to Jack. But Jack hurt him and Kent wanted to hurt him back.

That’s no excuse, though. He knows that. Kent has no idea how to explain it all to Jeff, doesn’t want Jeff to see this side of him, so he says nothing at all.

“Listen,” Jeff says, “sometimes people just need some time.”

Kent isn’t sure if there’s enough time in the world to make things right between him and Jack.

When Jeff tugs him closer and hugs him, Kent holds on for just a moment too long.

*

**Las Vegas, NV | September 2015**

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

Captain Kent Parson on new teammate Oliver Skye: “I’m glad we finally have one of the best beards in the league on our team.”

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

That A on @jefftroy14’s jersey sure looks nice :)

 

For over a year, they don’t slip up.

Kent can’t have some weird kind of friends with benefits thing going on with one of his teammates, that’s just the way it is. But sometimes he looks at Jeff and Jeff looks back at him and he knows full well what Jeff is thinking, because Kent is thinking the exact same thing. _We could_.

But they don’t. One of them always looks away and they go on with their lives.

They hang out a lot, but usually it’s not just the two of them. Jeff lives with Ricky and Ivan, so they’re around most of the time, and Kent would lie if he said that he wasn’t relieved when Ricky and Ivan offered their spare room to Jeff. Anyway. Kent and Jeff, they’re just friends now. It’s better this way.

And then Jeff gets the A. And the team takes him out to celebrate. And Kent drinks something that’s colorful, and then something that’s too sweet, and then something with a little parasol in it, and maybe a shot or two in between, and it makes him forget that it’s for the best that they’re friends and so he spends half of the evening with his eyes on Jeff. He’s wearing one of those really tight shirts again, and his hair is sticking to his temples.

It reminds Kent of that time Jeff came up to him after a game, years ago, in a different club. It reminds him of how Jeff’s fingers brushed against his somewhere in a dark corner.

Kent shakes off the memory, empties his drink and finds some of his boys on the dancefloor. And, hey, maybe Kent knows that he looks good on the dancefloor. He does. And maybe he knows that there’ll be people looking at him. And maybe he casts a glance over his shoulder every now and then to see if Jeff is one of them.

He is. Jeff is watching and he’s leaning against a pole and he’s so not sober, and neither is Kent, which is why he thinks it’s a really great idea to wink at Jeff.

And Jeff grins at him, and this time they’re not thinking _we could_ , they’re thinking _we should_ , and Kent is off the dance floor and next to Jeff within seconds. Jeff’s hand settles on his side and it could be nothing more than just a casual touch, except it isn’t and Kent wonders, briefly, if he could get away with blowing Jeff in a bathroom stall.

“Just tonight?” Jeff asks, and his smile his gentle and a little lopsided, and something unfurls inside of Kent.

“Just tonight,” Kent says. “Wait for me outside.”

He’s not sure if anyone would put two and two together if they realized that Kent and Jeff left at the same time. He’s not taking any chances. Jeff slips away from him, fingers trailing across Kent’s back before he vanishes between the people.

Kent looks around and finds Sunny still sitting in their booth, nursing a beer. He sidles up to Sunny and pats him on the back. “Sunny,” he says.

“Parser, what’s up?”

Kent leans closer to Sunny to make sure no one else will hear what he’s saying. “I’m gonna get the hell out of here with Swoops. If anyone asks, we didn’t leave together, okay? Like, just say I left with some girl and he did, too. I don’t care, make something up.”

Sunny looks at him with wide eyes for a moment before he says, “Okay, will do.” He’s a good guy. Kent’s glad that he told him the truth and he’s glad that Jeff told him too – he actually beat Kent to it – because now Sunny can cover for both of them.

“Thanks, man.”

Jeff’s waiting for him outside and Kent is suddenly painfully aware of how much time he usually spends talking himself into not wanting to touch Jeff. He wants him so much that he’s dizzy with it, or maybe that’s just all the colorful drinks.

They get a cab and Kent gives the driver his address. His hand goes on Jeff’s thigh and Jeff leans in to kiss Kent’s neck.

“Not yet,” Kent whispers.

Jeff huffs and stops, but stays close to Kent and slumps against him, head on his shoulder. That cab driver has probably seen his fair share of drunk guys. Nothing interesting going on here. The ride seems endless, but Jeff is extraordinarily well-behaved. It’s a few minutes later that Kent realizes that Jeff is asleep.

He doesn’t wake Jeff up until they’ve made it to his place and he’s paid for the ride. He shakes Jeff awake and pulls him out of the cab and into his house. With Jeff asleep in the cab, he actually had time to think about what they’re doing here. He doesn’t like the rational thoughts that have crept in.

Jeff leans down to kiss him as soon as Kent has pushed the door shut, and it’s careful and slow, and the exact opposite of what they were headed for when they left that club. Kent lets himself enjoy it for a moment, maybe two, lets Jeff pull him in, but eventually ends up with his face pressed into Jeff’s shirt, exhausted by all of this, by everything he’s feeling, by everything he’s thinking.

Jeff sighs. “Maybe we should just…”

 _Sleep_. That’s what they should do. If they can’t be drunk and reckless, they can be a least still a little bit drunk and tired and cuddly. Shit, sometimes Kent actually misses how cuddly Jeff used to be. He sincerely hopes that he won’t remember thinking that in the morning, but he’s probably not drunk enough to forget any of this. “Yeah,” Kent says.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Jeff says.

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

Kent doesn’t want him to sleep on the couch either, so he pulls him into his room and dumps his clothes on the floor and passes the fuck out with Jeff curled against his back.

*

**Las Vegas, NV | December 2015**

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

The #Aces are back from their road trip (3-0-1) and are taking on the Seattle Schooners tomorrow.

 

 **Kenny P** @kentparson90

my cat is more beautiful than all of you #justsaying

|

 **Michael Sunley** @sunny_77

@kentparson90 your cat tried to eat me

|

 **Kenny P** @kentparson90

@sunny_77 I bet she looked really cute tho

 

Kent drags himself off the couch when the doorbell rings. His pizza got here ten minutes ago and he’s pretty sure that he didn’t accidentally order more.

He’s only somewhat surprised when he finds Jeff outside his door. Jeff doesn’t bother with _hello_ s or _how are you_ s when Kent lets him in. He just says, “Do you mind if I cuddle Kit for a while?”

“You okay?” Kent asks.

Jeff shrugs and wanders into the living room. Kit is curled up on the couch, still purring when Jeff scoops her into his lap. “Sorry that I just showed up here.”

“Jeff,” Kent says and tries to sound stern. “Seriously, is everything okay?”

“You know, when I first got here Sunny said that Ricky was the team mom, but it’s actually you.” Jeff smiles. “You just hide it really well.”

Kent hates that feeling he gets when Jeff smiles at him. He doesn’t want that feeling anywhere near him.

Fuck, he hates Jeffrey Troy.

“So?” Kent asks.

Jeff is actually cuddling Kit, the way she usually only lets Kent cuddle her. Jeff makes a face. “I’m playing like shit and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“You’re not playing like shit, you’re just not scoring.”

It happens. And obviously nobody likes it when that happens, but Jeff is still one of the best players on the team and now that he’s on Kent’s line he’s doing even better. A few games without goals change nothing about that.

“Well, a lot of people seem to be thinking that not scoring equals playing like shit.”

Kent shakes his head at Jeff. “Did you google yourself again?”

Jeff groans. “No, I just watched TV.”

“Even worse,” Kent says. “Here, have some pizza.”

They watch a movie and maybe Kent sits a little closer to Jeff than strictly necessary, but if Jeff notices, he either doesn’t mind or doesn’t care. It’s been ages since Kent had someone this close to him and he knows that Jeff would hug him if he asked, but he doesn’t know how to ask, and he has a reputation to uphold, so he just sits there with his arm pressed against Jeff’s and it has to be enough.

Jeff is still grumpy; Kent can tell without even looking at him.

“Hey,” Kent says. “You’ll get one against the Schooners tomorrow. I’ll get you the puck and you can do your thing.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Sure it is.”

“Maybe when you’re Kent Parson.”

“And lucky for you,” Kent says, “I _am_ Kent Parson.”

“You’re a fucking pain in the ass, is what you are.”

“Hey, careful there, I might take away your cuddling privileges.”

“Fuck you,” Jeff whispers. He hugs Kit closer and Kit answers with a purr that would make a lawnmower jealous.

Halfway through the movie, Kent falls asleep, and he dreams. About Jack, and white tiles, and waiting rooms. There’s nothing coherent about his dream, he just goes back and forth. Jack looks at him from across the ice, blue eyes distant. Then Jack’s eyes are closed and he’s not breathing.

When he wakes up, Jeff is mumbling to him. “Kent, hey, it’s okay, you were dreaming.”

Kent pulls away from Jeff and scoots to the edge of the couch. He can’t even look at him. It hasn’t been this bad in a long time, but after seeing Jack in Providence, it all came creeping in again.

“Kent…”

“It’s fine. Just a weird dream.”

“Okay,” Jeff says and tugs on his shirt.

Kent leans back against him, lets himself be pulled close. He’s well aware that Jeff knows that he’s lying and he has absolutely no idea why Jeff is willing to put up with his bullshit.

Or maybe he isn’t.

“What did you dream about?” Jeff asks. His voice is level, casual, but Kent doesn’t miss that there’s something else underneath.

“Just… weird stuff.”

“Come on, man. We’ve slept in the same bed a couple of times and you’re not exactly subtle when you’re having a nightmare. This wasn’t the first one.”

“I’m not– They’re not nightmares.”

“No?”

Kent sighs. “What are you, my therapist?”

“You have a therapist?” Jeff asks.

Well, it’s not like Kent was shouting it off the rooftops, but maybe it’s okay if Jeff knows. He already knows more than pretty much anyone else anyway. “Yeah, I do.”

“Oh. Good. That’s good.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

Jeff hugs him closer like he did with Kit earlier. Now she’s watching them from the top of her cat tree, tail swishing.

Jeff doesn’t leave and Kent doesn’t even think about telling him to. They sleep on the couch, Jeff completely wrapped around Kent, and if he dreams about anything else that night, Kent doesn’t remember in the morning.

*

**Las Vegas, NV | February 2016**

 

 **Providence Falconers** @NHLFalconers

We’re tied 2-2 after the 1st period. Lots of hockey left to be played. #FalcsAces

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

Looks like we’ve got some extra hockey coming up here in Vegas.

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

#Aces fall to Providence in OT. Final Score: 5-4

 

After Kent gets back from the All Star Game in Nashville, the Falconers come to Vegas. It’s a fast game, but their defense is a mess today because two of their guys are out injured, and Sunny’s left to fight for his life between the pipes. It’s not quite enough in the end.

It’s Jack who scores in overtime.

Some of the guys are going out for drinks after the game because Ivan knows Alexei Mashkov and they talk Kent into tagging along. His only consolation is that Jack Zimmermann probably doesn’t go out after games, so it’s not all that likely that he’ll run into Jack tonight.

Jeff comes as well and immediately sits down next to Mashkov – “I don’t get why you don’t like him, Parse, his guys call him Tater, that’s hilarious,” Jeff said the other day. “He’s a really cool dude. Which you’d know if you’d come out with us in Providence.”

Well, Kent had been too busy pitying himself to go out with them in Providence. He rolled his eyes at Jeff. “Does that mean the two of you are, like, the founders of the Stupid Nickname Club?” Kent asked.

Anyway. He’s out with them today, but he’s not too keen on getting too close to Mashkov, because he’s pretty sure that Mashkov still low-key wants to murder him. Kent buys himself a cocktail and joins Ricky and one of the Falcs, St. Martin, at the back of the bar.

Marty asks Kent about the All Star Game, then he asks, “Have you talked to Jack yet? You used to play together, didn’t you?”

“Jack’s here?”

“Yeah, he’s right over there,” Marty says and nods at the bar, where Jack is talking to Sunny.

It actually throws him, seeing Jack here. He’s smiling about whatever Sunny is telling him. He’s so different and Kent really, really wants to get to know this Jack Zimmermann. He stares at Jack and waits for that all too familiar twinge in the pit of his stomach, but it never comes. Kent misses him, though. And he hates that he can’t just go over there and talk to him and ask him how he’s doing.

He snaps out of it when Jeff comes over to them and gives Kent a nudge. “Hey, you guys.”

Oh, hey, and there’s that twinge in the pit of his stomach. Jesus fucking Christ.

Kent isn’t drunk enough for this.

He looks up again and now Jack is alone and he’s looking back at him. Kent honestly can’t read the expression on Jack’s face. It might be curiosity, or it might be burning hatred. Jack’s always been way too good at staring blankly.

“Yeah, I guess I’m gonna go say hi to Jack.”

“Do you mind if I come?” Jeff asks.

“Are you gonna ask him for a selfie?”

“Fuck off.”

The thing is, Jeff always chirps Kent when he takes selfies, but he’s still in about half of them. And Jeff posted a picture of himself and Kit last week – _Stealing Parser’s girl :))_

Whatever. Jeff can go and take a selfie with Jack. And maybe Kent’s going to let him take care of the entire conversation. It’s easier that way.

Jack nods at them when they walk up to him and Kent grits out a, “Hi,” and then Jeff starts complimenting Jack on pretty much everything he did during the game until he eventually trails off and says, “Anyway, you guys probably want to catch up.”

“Yeah,” Kent says and he knows that it’s severely lacking enthusiasm and it doesn’t escape him that Jack isn’t elated by the prospect of being left alone with him, and Jeff looks at Kent, then at Jack, then back at Kent, and Kent can actually _see_ it all fall into place in Jeff’s mind.

“Right,” Jeff says, “I’m gonna go.”

Kent sort of wants to grab him by the arm and say something really ridiculous like, _Don’t leave me alone_. But Jeff does leave him alone and Jack won’t even look at Kent now and this isn’t going well at all.

“So,” Kent says. “I, uh…”

Jack glances at him, lips pursed.

For fuck’s sake. It hurts like hell that Jack is looking at him like that and, sure, maybe Kent deserves it, but they were best friends once. “Hey, Zimms, I’m really sorry.”

“Are you?” Jack asks.

“I am. The stuff I said… that wasn’t okay.” Kent looks over at Jeff, who’s back next to Mashkov, but he’s watching Kent and Jack. He remembers talking to Jeff, over a year ago, remembers Jeff saying, _Sometimes people just need some time_. Maybe Jack needs a little more time. Or maybe there really isn’t enough time in the world. Maybe this can’t be fixed. “Look, I can go if you don’t want to talk to me. But it’d be cool if we could, you know, someday.”

Jack leans back against the bar. “My dad said you had dinner with him and my mom when you guys played the Habs a couple of weeks ago.”

Okay, then. Looks like they’re talking. Maybe not about the things they should be talking about, but, well, this isn’t exactly the right place for that kind of talk, is it? “Yeah,” Kent said. “Your dad, he…” He still cares. God knows why. “It was nice of him to invite me.”

Jack nods. He asks about Kent’s mom. Kent asks about how Jack is liking Providence. They talk about hockey. Kent shows Jack a picture of Kit. It’s probably one of the most awkward conversations Kent has ever had with anyone in his entire life.

“Well, I should…” Kent looks at Jeff again. He’s laughing about whatever story Ivan is telling. “Actually, before I leave you the fuck alone…” Kent fiddles with his empty glass. “If I wanted to tell someone about us, would that be okay with you? If it was someone I trust?”

Whatever Jack was expecting him to say, that clearly wasn’t it. “You want to…”

Jack’s going to say no. Of course he’s going to say no. Maybe it’s for the best if no one else ever gets to hear this story. Kent told his therapist, but he never mentioned Jack’s name.

Jack takes a deep breath. “I told someone. He won’t tell anyone else,” he says lowly. Looks like Jack has a boyfriend. Interesting. “So… I don’t mind.”

Kent, without meaning to, shoots another glance at Jeff. His face is red and Mashkov keeps flicking at his cap, and then Jeff catches Kent’s eye and smiles. And Kent smiles back at him, because how could he not?

He hates Jeffrey Troy. And his goofy smile.

“Oh,” Jack says softly.

It sort of pulls Kent back to reality. “What?”

Jack is looking at Jeff now, too.

“No, it’s not like that,” Kent says. The thought of _it_ being like _that_ does extremely unhealthy things to his heart rate. “It’s not.”

Right now, it’s like this: Jeff comes over a lot. Jeff sleeps in his bed a lot. They don’t kiss. They don’t hook up. After that one time last year when they nearly slipped up, they laughed it off in the morning. It has occurred to Kent that what they’re doing now is even worse than that friends with benefits thing they had going on before Jeff got traded to Vegas. Mostly, he tries not to think about it too much.

Kent goes and sits with Sunny and the kid that the Falcs call Poots until they leave and Kent is pretty sure that he doesn’t imagine the smile on Jack’s face when he says goodbye to him.

*

**Las Vegas, NV | April 2016**

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

ACES WIN AND ARE HEADED TO ROUND 2!! #StanleyCupPlayoffs

|

 **Seattle Schooners** @Schooners

@LVAces Ever heard of using your inside voice?

|

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

@Schooners NO!!!!

 

When Kent wakes up, he’s starving, there’s something heavy on top of him and he’s way too hot. The heavy thing is Jeff, who has his head pillowed on Kent’s chest, which is probably also why he’s so hot. It’s not helping that they’re lying right in a patch of sunlight either.

Kent curses quietly. He’s naked. Jeff is naked. There’s a bruise blooming under Jeff’s eye where he took a stick to the face.

Kent’s probably going to die if he doesn’t shove Jeff off of him soon because Jeff is a fucking furnace, but he looks so ridiculously peaceful, and Kent hasn’t been this relaxed in months, so he’s not in that much of a hurry. It’s like one of those mornings when Jeff came to visit him here during the off-season, when they fell asleep curled around each other every night, sweaty and boneless, perfectly content.

Jeff’s fingers twitch against his skin, then he stirs, groaning quietly. He’s not moving away, though. “Why does it feel like we’re in the fucking desert?”

“Because we are,” Kent says. “And I didn’t close the curtains last night.”

“Well, close the fucking curtains, then.”

“I would, but it’s not like I can go anywhere.”

Jeff shifts against him, fingers trailing over Kent’s stomach, and then down to his thigh. He grabs Kent and easily rolls them over, pulling Kent on top of him. “Now you can go.”

The thing is, Kent isn’t going anywhere. He knows it and Jeff knows it, too. He grinds down slowly, draws it out until he can’t hold back any longer. Kent kisses Jeff’s neck, lets his hands roam, doesn’t talk, just lets Jeff’s quiet gasps guide the way. It’s lazy and gentle in a way they rarely were in the past.

When Kent collapses on top of Jeff, breathless and totally out of it, Jeff holds him close and they’re a fucking mess, but Kent is still having a hard time convincing himself to get up.

“Shit,” Jeff says.

Kent doesn’t reply at first. Because, yeah, holy fucking shit. They haven’t done this in years, and somehow it’s better than it’s ever been before. Eventually, Kent mutters, “Shower?”

“Yeah, okay. Give me, like, half a minute.”

They shower, and they don’t talk. Jeff makes breakfast, and they don’t talk. They eat, their legs tangled under the table, and they don’t talk.

They don’t talk until Jeff says, “All right, quick question, how much are you gonna hate me if I say that I don’t really want to go back to not having incredible sex with you every now and then?”

Kent looks up.

“Like, we could keep doing this and if either one of us wants to stop at any point for whatever reason, we can stop. No hard feelings. Or, like, no feelings in general. What do you think?”

Kent thinks that he should say no. Because they’re teammates and there are about a thousand shitty ways that this could end, and because the _no feelings in general_ thing doesn’t really apply to Kent. He definitely feels things when he’s around Jeff, and when he looks at him, and when he touches him, and he shouldn’t be feeling any of those things.

“No one can know,” Kent says.

Jeff grins.

They don’t keep their hands off each other all that much after that.

*

**Las Vegas, NV | October 2016**

 

 **Some Hockey Dude** @kentparson90

congrats @jefftroy14 you’re old. kit says happy birthday :-*

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

Jeffrey Troy gets two goals and an assist for his birthday and is first star of tonight’s game against Houston. #AcesAeros

 

“Parse,” Jeff whispers.

Kent hums and noses along the back of Jeff’s neck. He wasn’t asleep yet, but he was already drifting. “I can’t hear you, I’m sleeping.”

“Okay, but can you let go of me?”

“Depends,” Kent mumbles.

“On what?”

“Why d’you want me to let go?”

Kent has no illusions. If they fall asleep like this, one of them is going to end up getting elbowed in the ribs or getting kicked in the shin, or Kent will nearly push Jeff out of bed, because clearly a king-size isn’t big enough for the two of them, but Kent fits against Jeff’s back perfectly, which is why he doesn’t really feel like letting go.

“It’s late,” Jeff says. “I should go.”

Right. This is Kent’s own fault. When they went back to doing this, he realized that he couldn’t let Jeff stay the night anymore. He needs to maintain some sort of distance. He can’t do both; it’s too much. 

But tonight Kent really couldn’t care less. He wants to wake up next to Jeff tomorrow morning. So maybe he has feelings, who actually gives a shit? Okay, Jeff might give a shit, so maybe Kent shouldn’t actually _say_ anything about that. In the end, he just kisses the back of Jeff’s neck and nuzzles into his hair and says, “Stay.”

“Are you letting me stay because it’s three in the morning or because it’s my birthday?”

Kent doesn’t point out that it’s technically not Jeff’s birthday anymore. He’s too tired for this, he’s too tired for anything other than _I’m staying_ or _I’m leaving_ , so maybe that’s why he says, “I’m not letting you, I’m asking you to.”

Jeff settles back against him. “You want me to stay, huh?”

“I want to sleep.”

And, yeah, he wants Jeff to stay.

*

**Providence, RI | December 2016**

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

Our captain @kentparson90 will be doing a quick Q&A at 2 PM (EST)! Tag your questions #AskKent

|

 **Michael Sunley** @sunny_77

@LVAces what’s your favorite thing about christmas parser? is it eggnog? #askkent

|

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

@sunny_77 no it’s when they put reindeer antlers on you and Swoops and make you sing carols

|

 **Jeffrey Troy** @jefftroy14

@LVAces @sunny_77 I look great in reindeer antlers

 

 **Las Vegas Aces** @LVAces

The #Aces are headed to Boston, Providence and Toronto after three wins at home.

 

“Okay, no more drinks for Parse. I see what you’re doing, trying to get our captain drunk a day before the game,” Sunny says and pulls the tray of shots Mashkov just set down on the table over to himself. “These are all for me.”

“He only had one beer,” the kid they call Poots says.

“Yeah, it’s still a good idea to keep shots away from him, though,” Jack says.

Kent shakes his head at him, but he’s secretly pleased that Jack is willing to joke around with him.

A bunch of them are out with a bunch of the Falcs, Mashkov and Ivan bringing them together again, although Jack did text Kent the other day and asked if they’d be seeing each other in Providence. Off the ice. They text now. Not that often, but still. They talked a couple of times during the summer. They talked about the draft. They talked about how they were never right for each other, not outside of hockey anyway. And it was painful. And necessary.

“See, Zimmermann knows what he’s talking about,” Sunny says. “You know, last year at our Christmas party, Parser had too much eggnog and–”

Kent tries to stuff a napkin into Sunny’s mouth. “Shut up.”

“–and Swoops had to take him home. Carried him bridal style. Those photos are great.”

“You’re just jealous because Swoops has never carried you bridal style,” Kent says.

They don’t stay out for too long, no one gets drunk, and no one has to be carried anywhere. Kent has his hand on Jeff’s thigh under the table for most of the evening. Sometimes, Sunny grins at them like he knows exactly what’s going on, and maybe he does. Kent wouldn’t mind if he knew.

As the leave, Jack stays behind with Kent for a moment before they follow the others out the door.

Jeff is standing outside the window, looking in with that stupid goofy grin on his face. Kent knows exactly what he’s thinking. _Aw, look at them, finally making up_. Kent told Jeff the whole Jack Zimmermann story from beginning to end last summer. He even told him about Samwell. Kent rolls his eyes at him and Jeff flips him off in return.

“Hey, Kenny?” Jack says.

“What?”

“I’m glad that you’re happy.”

Does he look happy? _Is_ he happy?

Sunny and Jeff have started shoving each other around outside and two seconds later Jeff has Sunny in a headlock.

Yeah, okay, he is happy.

“Anyway,” Jack says, “I’ll see you tomorrow, eh?”

“Is your boy coming?”

Jack looks at him for a long moment. He’s never outright told Kent that he has a boyfriend, but it was heavily implied. “No, he has a game,” Jack finally says.

“You’re dating another player?” Kent asks. “Seriously?”

Jack shrugs. “You’re dating a _teammate_.”

Yeah, looks like Kent just never learns, does he? He doesn’t tell Jack that he and Jeff aren’t actually dating. They’re in friends with benefits limbo and that’s an all right place for them to be.

They go back to their hotel, and Jeff shoots Kent a glance that undoubtedly means to say, _I’ll see you in about ten minutes_.

Jeff sneaks into Kent’s room tonight. Kent pins him against the door, one of Jeff’s hands is under his shirt and the other one is in his hair and everything’s great, except Kent can’t stop thinking about what Jack said. That he’s dating a teammate.

He’s not. That’s the actual problem here. And Kent hates to admit it, but this hasn’t started bugging him today. He’s been thinking about it for some time.

Whatever. He might as well ask. He’s Kent Parson, for fuck’s sake. He can ask shit like this. “Jeff.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to go out.”

“Now?”

Maybe there should have been more words in that sentence. Kent tries again. “With you, I mean. On a date.”

Jeff has gone very, very still. And he’s gone very, very silent. Jeff doesn’t want this. Of course he doesn’t want this. Why on earth did Kent think for even just a second that Jeff would want anything more than what they already have? It works for them, no doubt about it. Why would he want to deal with the rest of the shit that Kent’s carrying around with him?

Going out on dates isn’t part of their deal. They couldn’t even go _out_. Not really.

“Can you at least say _no thank you_ so we can both move on with our lives,” Kent says gruffly and takes a step back.

“Hey, no, just give me a second. That was kinda out of the blue.” Jeff frowns at him. “Don’t get all snappy just because this isn’t going your way.”

Kent crosses his arms and pouts.

“This is what it’s gonna be like, Kent,” Jeff says. “I’m not gonna do whatever the fuck you want me to do all the time. We’re not gonna agree on everything.”

“Clearly, you’re the relationship expert here.”

Jeff just stares at him and suddenly Kent thinks about hotel room doors slamming shut, and about Jeff leaving, and this isn’t what he wanted at all.

“Okay, no, I get it,” Kent says. “You’re right. I’m probably not gonna stop being like this either.”

Jeff sighs and sits down on the bed. “Yeah, I figured. So, when do you wanna go out?”

“Wait, I thought we weren’t going out?”

“I mean…” Jeff holds out his hand. “Come over here and sit down?”

Instead of sitting down next to Jeff, Kent crawls into his lap. This. This is what he wants. Jeff’s arms around him, his lips on his temple. He wants this and everything else, too. He thought this would scare the shit out of him, but, the thing is, with Jeff it doesn’t seem all that bad. With Jeff he feels safe.

“Look,” Jeff says, “I can deal with you being an asshole sometimes. And you’re gonna have to deal with me being an asshole sometimes, too. But we’re still on the same team and if I don’t get traded, we will be for the foreseeable future.”

“They’re not gonna trade you,” Kent mutters. He plays better when Jeff is on the ice with him. Everyone can see that.

“Yeah, so, we have the team to consider, too. We play on the same line. If we fuck this up somehow–”

“Okay, but we’re already halfway there, aren’t we?”

“Halfway, yeah,” Jeff says. “If this gets more serious, things are gonna change. So it’s really not the same thing.”

“Which means?”

Kent isn’t sure if he wants to hear the answer.

“Which means,” Jeff kisses him, “we’d have to try really hard not to fuck this up.”

“And do you want to try?”

“Yeah,” Jeff says, “I want to try.”

*

**Las Vegas, NV | February 2017**

 

 **Kit’s Dad** @kentparson90

breaking news: @jefftroy14 doesn’t know how to cook potatoes

 

“Did you seriously just tweet that?”

“Did I tweet what?”

Jeff picks up his phone and rolls his eyes. “I do know how to cook potatoes.”

“Then why have I never seen you cook potatoes, huh?”

“Do you want me to cook you potatoes? Because I will. I’ll go and buy potatoes and I’ll cook them and then I’ll throw them at you.”

Kent scratches Kit behind the ears and looks over at Jeff, who’s cooking dinner. Like, _fancy_ dinner. There’s gonna be dessert as well. Something that involves a lot of chocolate and a lot of cursing. And Jeff is wearing an apron.

Yep, there’s a guy in an apron in Kent’s kitchen, and it shouldn’t be weird, but for a long time Kent didn’t think he was the kind of person who’d ever have someone who’d want to cook him dinner at all. Someone who’d want to know him outside of a hotel room. Someone who’d want to stay.

“Can’t wait,” Kent says. “I mean, who doesn’t love having potatoes thrown at them. That’s so romantic.”

Jeff turns on the radio that Sunny left in the kitchen when he moved out years ago. Katy Perry is playing and Jeff changes the station. Jeff’s taste in music is horrific. He settles for some classic rock station that Kent will have to endure for the next half hour or so.

Kit decides to leave and Kent honestly can’t blame her. He gets up and shuffles over to Jeff. “Do you need help?”

“Nope.”

Kent wraps his arms around him from behind. “Are you sure?”

Jeff hums.

“I’m bored,” Kent says and presses closer.

Jeff stirs his sauce and turns around. “Is Instagram not entertaining enough?”

“Nah,” Kent says. This is better. And he can’t exactly snap a picture of Jeff and put it on Instagram. _Oh, look, my boyfriend is making me dinner and his ass looks bangin’ in those jeans_. Kent grins at Jeff.

“What?”

Kent shrugs and leans against Jeff and Jeff just holds him there. This is, quite possibly, his favorite part. Jeff always wants him close. It’s still not ideal when they’re sleeping, but that’s a small price to pay. Jeff has spent all week at Kent’s and Kent is honestly about to ask Jeff to just stay. Forever. Because that’s where they’re headed anyway.

They’re going to Calgary tomorrow and Sunny has been complaining that he won’t be home for Valentine’s Day and–

“Jeffrey.”

“Oh, what did I do now?”

“Is this… Is you cooking dinner a Valentine’s Day thing?”

“Valentine’s Day isn’t until the day after tomorrow.”

“So it’s not?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So it is.” Kent doesn’t even care if Jeff can hear the satisfaction in his voice.

The music on the radio fades into some power ballad and Jeff starts swaying back and forth with his arms still around Kent.

“Are we dancing?” Kent mumbles into Jeff’s shirt.

“I think we’d have to move our feet to be allowed to call this dancing.” Jeff kisses the top of Kent’s head. “And since we’ve established several times that I’m really sappy, I don’t even care what you’re gonna say next.”

Kent doesn’t really have anything to say anyway. Because this is nice. Because he’s awkwardly dancing with a guy in his kitchen and maybe it’s actually one of the greatest things that has ever happened to him. Well, aside from the thing with the Stanley Cup. That was pretty special, too, but this is a completely different kind of special.

Maybe he’s a little sappy, too.

Kent sort of loves Jeffrey Troy. And he’s totally okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated :)
> 
> I'm @zimmermaenner on tumblr if you wanna say hi (or if you wanna talk to me about Kent and Swoops/Troy).


End file.
